twilight stitches
by gkkstitch
Summary: Soon to be a whole collection of ONE-SHOTS into our favorite vampires. It takes a lot of stitches to make the Twilight Tapestry. Each outtake will be of various ratings, some more innocent than others. Canon.
1. Chapter 1 Welcome to Forks

**A/N: All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All original characters and storylines belong to Giselle-LX's fellow alumni from college who believes that "The Leaders and The Best" is more than just a catchy phrase. We don't know why... but she whistles a lot, too. Happy Birthday!!**

Carlisle and Edward  
Pre-Twilight  
Rated-T

**

* * *

**

**Welcome to Forks  
(aka. establishing the cover story)**

**~•~**

Carlisle pulled his Mercedes into the empty gravel parking lot outside Olympic Outfitters; the torrential downpour apparently keeping most shoppers away. The car lurched violently to the right, slipping into a deep pothole filled with mud. The bottom of the car scraped the ground.

Carlisle and Edward looked sharply at each other, guilt flashing in their eyes. Carlisle grimaced at the same moment Edward grinned and held up his hands.

"It's your car and you're driving, so _you_ can explain it to Rosalie," he said.

"Why, exactly, did I bring you along?" Carlisle teased as he steered the car out of the pothole and into the highest parking spot he could find close to the door.

"I make your story legitimate," Edward teased back as the car shut off. "And I have the money."

They climbed out of the car and dashed into the store. A bell rang as the door swung open and closed again, and a middle-aged man looked up from a small display of hiking boots he was arranging.

"Morning!" he called. "You must need something pretty bad to go out in weather like this."

Carlisle shook the rain from his jacket. "It actually started just after we left the house."

"Live outside of town then, I take it?" the man asked, making friendly chatter.

"A bit, yes."

"Well, how can I help you? I'm Mike. I own the store." He held out his hand.

Carlisle shook it. "I'm Dr. Cullen, and this is my son, Edward."

Mike shook Edward's hand as well, discounting their cold fingers to the weather and damp. "Dr. Cullen!" he said happily. "Right! You're the new head of emergency medicine."

"That's right," Carlisle smiled.

"Oh, we knew old doc Sagher really well. I have a teen-aged son, too." He glanced at Edward. "Plays football. We got to know Dr. Sagher on a first name basis," he laughed.

"Then you should call me Carlisle," he offered with a smile.

"How about you?" Mike asked Edward. "You look to be about my boy's age. You play football?"

"Uh, no, not really," Edward answered quietly.

Mike chuckled. "No, I suppose not. You look bookish to me. Probably be a doctor one day like your old man, huh?" He smiled at Edward when he shuffled uncomfortably.

Little did he know the one hundred year old vampire was merely playing the role of a reticent teenager.

"You starting tenth grade?" Mike asked, trying to draw him out.

"I'll be a freshman."

"Really? I wouldn't have guessed. You'll be in my son's class then. You're awfully tall for ninth grade," Mike complimented.

"Shot up six inches this summer alone," came Carlisle's practiced answer sounding like a proud parent.

"Amazing how fast they grow, isn't it?" Mike said. "My boy's voice just finished changing. Still can't get used to hearing him in the house."

"I know exactly what you mean. My eldest's voice changed in a day. Scared the daylights out of his mother when he came home. She thought someone had broken into the house."

"Eldest?" Mike questioned. "You hide your age really well then. You barely look old enough for this one," he motioned to Edward with a smile.

"Oh! They're adopted," Carlisle answered, building the foundation for their story. "My wife and I took in Edward and his brother and sister several years ago, then adopted my sister-in-laws children when she passed after a fight with cancer."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Mike said. "That's an amazing thing you've done. You and your wife must have a lot of love in you. So how many children do you have?"

"Five," Carlisle said. "Each one has brought so much light into our lives."

"That's just amazing," Mike said again, honestly touched and impressed. "You're all very lucky to have each other." He smiled, instantly liking the new town doctor. "So what can I do for you today?"

"I'd like to get some camping and hiking equipment." Carlisle picked up one of the boots from the display Mike was working on. "I won't be able to get everything today, but I'd like to set up an account if that's all right, so the rest of my family can come in later to get the sizes they need, try things on?"

Edward looked away to hide his smile when he heard a veritable cash register bell ring in Mike's mind. Despite Mike's naturally affable demeanor, he was struggling to keep on top of the bills and had been contemplating selling the family's second car.

Mike's smile faltered briefly in shock before it came back even wider than before. "I surely can! That won't be a problem at all. What sort of camping equipment were you thinking about?"

"Pretty much everything," Carlisle said. "I got rid of most of our gear when we moved into the city. There was no storage, and not much point in keeping it, so I'm interested in hearing about all the new ultra light backpacking gear. There's lots of places to use it here!"

"That sounds fantastic," Mike said with an internal sigh of relief. They'd be able to keep the car and get the parking lot graded at last. "One second, let me get my boy out here to give us a hand. Mike?" he called loudly to the back of the store.

"Yeah, Dad?" a younger voice answered, peeking around a display of compound bows.

"Can you get the Black Diamond and Gregory catalogs, and the layaway forms from my office? Then help Edward here with the boots while I show Dr. Cullen what we have for backpacking?"

Young Mike glanced at Edward with a nod and a quick appraisal. "Sure," he answered his father, then looked back at Edward. "Be right back."

"Wonderful," Carlisle said. He laid a hand on Edward's shoulder and gave him a wink as he followed Mike Senior towards the back of the store.

Edward watched him walk away and stifled an internal sigh. High school, he lamented; an entire year with yet another class of fourteen year olds. The older they got, the harder it was to find the school routine acceptable.

He could hear younger Mike in the back of the store, retrieving the items his father asked for, sighing that the _new kid_ didn't look like the type to enjoy video games. _ What's the point in having a rich dad, if you don't want the new PlayStation? _

Edward did not need to hide his smile this time, recalling the stock quotes from the morning's newspaper. What would be the point of owning forty thousand shares of Sony if there weren't fourteen year olds around to covet their Playstations?

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks to **LolaShoes,** **hmonster4 **and **IrishGirlTaken** for being story editor AND copy editors, rolled into one!


	2. Chapter 2 Diamond in the Rough

_Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. It is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. Any original story directions and plot lines herein are the property of the author. This work is written solely for the enjoyment of exploring that world in new ways._

Emmett-Rosalie  
Pre-Twilight  
Rated-M

We've heard about Emmett and Rose's first ten years of marriage, so what was so unusual about it? Why were they so insatiable?

Author's blog: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com

* * *

**Diamond in the Rough**

**Forks, Washington  
****1938**

It happened so fast there was no time to react, even for a vampire. The house was there and then it wasn't. Had the Quileute attacked them anyway, despite the newly acquired treaty? The rumble of destruction faded to only the hiss of dust settling and the angry creak of timber, punctuated now and again by the shrill popping of glass windowpanes.

Carlisle was the first to pull himself from the rubble. "Esme!" He clawed frantically at the debris.

"I'm here," she called back, her voice muffled as half of a wall rose up and shifted to slide off her. "I'm all right," she added needlessly if only to soothe her husband's panic. As she rose from the ruins, she groaned in despair surveying the damage.

More sections of the house shifted and large sections of plaster slid out of the way as Rosalie's dust-covered head peeked up through a hole. She stared at her surroundings in horrified shock. Emmett groaned nearby with a strained sound just as half of the debris moved sharply. His bare legs stuck up through the dust as he kicked way a supporting beam to free himself. The enormous timber flew up and arched across the yard landing with a ground-shaking thud. The sudden motion caused a second collapse of material. Papers, furniture and more plaster rained down on them from the precariously supported roof.

"Uh-oh," Emmett muttered. A large section of plaster from the former ceiling dropped on his head and cracked over him like an egg. "Whoops."

Almost everyone was accounted for, except... "Edward!" Carlisle shouted. "Edward, can you hear me?"

"M'shtuck," came his muffled and deeply annoyed voice.

Carlisle and Esme pulled the shattered walls from the wreckage and tossed them aside, batting away more plaster as it fell on them . They made the task look as easy as pulling back a pile of blankets until they found Edward. He was tightly wedged between the new washing machine they had just purchased that morning and the cistern wall that had broken and collapsed on him.

By the time they could pull Edward free, he was drenched and covered in plaster dust and mud. Esme made a regret-filled tsking sound with her tongue as she pulled back her hands to shake the clay from her hands. The laser-like glare of Edward's eyes found Emmett and Rosalie.

Rose was sitting up in the rubble with her arms wrapped across her bare chest. Despite their pale complexions, she now looked flat white, having been painted in the white plaster powder . Emmett rose up out of the debris nude, but was holding a large chunk of wall in front of his privates. He laughed nervously and waved at Carlisle, Esme and Edward as they stared accusingly at the couple.

"Sorry," he said meekly. He looked around at what remained of the house. "Too bad we don't have a psychic in the family, huh? Bet he could have warned us in advance."

~•~

"Esme wouldn't really enlist us in the Civilian Conservation Corps, would she?" Emmett muttered, pulling the old canvas tent from the rafters in the garage.

Rosalie laughed lightly and shook her head. "No, but that's about as mad as I've ever seen her." She held her arms up and took the tent from Emmett as he lightly dropped onto the soft dirt floor.

"What did she mean about planting trees?" he asked.

"I think it's meant to show us the value of lumber, so we'll have a greater appreciation for what exactly goes in to all the repairs to the house she's had to make lately."

They pulled the tent into the yard and started unfolding it as Edward and Carlisle finished knocking down a nearby spruce. The tree landed neatly into the middle of the debris to disguise the cause of the damage. Edward glared at them again as he walked by. He didn't offer to help.

"Are we really banned from helping rebuild the house?" Emmett asked sheepish.

"Yep." Rosalie realized they had gotten off easy.

"I feel guilty about not being able to help," he said sadly.

Rosalie shrugged. "I don't."

Emmett's guilty frown slowly transformed itself into a grin. "That was pretty incredible." His smile turned into a chuckle which grew into laughter. When Rose started laughing with him, they both doubled over cackling.

"There's nothing funny about this," Esme yelled from the other side of the junk pile that had formerly been their home.

Her words only made Emmett and Rose laugh harder.

"We knocked down the house!" Emmett gasped, falling to the ground with laughter.

"The house we just fixed after knocking out two walls last week!" Rose added, rolling next to her husband.

"Laugh it up, chuckles," Edward snarled. "I hope you're still laughing when the rain starts again."

"Wait. What? We can't stay in the tent?" Rose asked, her laughter coming under control in the wake of Edward's threat.

"Nope. This is your penance. Find something else to do," Edward informed them blithely.

Emmett's laughter took on a lascivious tone. "I can think of something else to do."

Edward rolled his eyes at the seductive tenor of Emmett's thoughts. "Sometimes I wish that bear had been more effective."

"Stop it, Edward," Rose snarled at him. "Just because _you're_ not having any fun, doesn't mean the rest of us have to dance around you."

"Can you at least find someplace else for your... your... _wrestling_ sessions?" Edward demanded before stalking off.

Emmett continued to chuckle, unfazed by Edward's surly demeanor. "Don't worry about him," he said comfortingly to his wife. "We'll find something else to do."

"Okay, but I can't wrestle you forever. I suppose I'll have to find some new challenge." Rosalie hid her teasing grin. "Can you recommend anything?"

Emmett's happiness couldn't be hidden as he helped her to her feet. "How about we go out to the foothills. I don't want a lot of competition for your time just now."

"Just now?" she teased.

"Or ever," he added.

A smile best described as wicked crossed her mouth as she whispered, "No matter how well you hide, lover, I'll find you."

So it was to be hide-and-seek! Or, as he knew, hide-and-_chase_. And _she_ wanted to chase _him._

Emmett paused by the half-erected tent hiding his excitement at her willingness to play. She never acted this way around the rest of the family. He doubted they even knew this side of her existed. He put a purely innocent smile on his face and mustered a bit of indignity, which he veneered over his true intentions, and then he was off in a flash, running at full speed across the backyard.

Rosalie paused long enough to give him a fair head start, then was after him like a flash. He made it all the way down the valley when suddenly she fell out of tree ahead of him, crouched in his path. She snarled at him. Emmett cut sharply left with a laugh that the game was still afoot and ran up the hill, making his own path through the low trees and saplings. He couldn't use his speed here so he used his bare hands to help him scramble over the steep rock and dirt ledges. Rosalie was right on his heels. Growls ripped from her as random scree was dislodged under his feet and flew harmlessly into her face. He could feel swats across the back of his thighs and calves as she swung at him, grazing him.

At last she hooked his thigh enough to knock him to the left. Emmett tucked and rolled, but still landed hard. He tried right himself, but Rosalie landed on his back. If he'd had to worry about breathing, he would have had the wind knocked out of him. He soon found himself in another wrestling match with a snarling vampire. Any other would have hesitated in an attack, cowered simply by his size and stature. Rosalie had no such qualms.

It didn't take him long to realize that if he didn't fight back, she'd get the upper hand without remorse. Emmett bent and put Rosalie off balance with his shoulder. He moved around her and lifted the snarling, wriggling woman off her feet, holding her arms down to keep her claws away.

His arms were like iron bands around her as he held her against his chest, then fell to the ground again with her pinned below him. His own voice growled with the impact, and he used everything he had to keep her from regaining her balance. Growling and writhing in frustration, trying to hold her was like holding a sack of steel snakes. She paused for a moment to gather her strength and broke his hold on her with a Herculean effort. She scrambled away to open space to fight.

She laughed at him. "Don't try those vampire tricks on me, my love. I'm older than you."

"We were born the same year!" he said. The sound of his voice surprised him. It was lower and rougher.

"But I was a vampire two years before you. Technically, that makes me older and wiser."

Emmett graced her with a pout and a dramatic gesture. "You wound my male ego!" He felt powerful, pushing himself to his limits with her and enjoying it. His mind was clouded with a fog of desire as he freely ran on his instincts, even for fun.

"That's not all I'll wound, sweetheart," she snarled and attacked.

Emmett rushed towards her instead of retreating. He feinted to the left as if to dodge away and brought his heavy hand down against her hip crumpling her leg from under her. Without hesitation, he spun behind her and swatted at the back of her knee, collapsing her legs from under her. Rosalie fell, rolled with the blow and added some extra rolls for distance. She scrambled back up favoring her numbed hip.

"Where did you learn _that_, Emmett Cullen? That was pure bar brawl." She flexed the numbed side cautiously. "I thought you were a good Christian boy when you were human."

"I'd say during a particularly raucous sexual encounter," he lisped a bit as he tried to whisper. "But my wife might be close by listening."

"Oh? How interesting," she said, shifting her weight cautiously onto the affected limb. She massaged her hip, eyes down. "Were you trying to break my leg, Emmett love?"

"Course not!" he snorted and mumbled, "As if I could." Louder, he added, "Emmett's rule number one: Never break anything you might want _play with_ later." He grinned as the innuendo hung in the air with her intoxicating scent.

"You'll have to find it first," she laughed suddenly and lunged to the side, into the undergrowth.

Emmett debated giving her a head start for all of a split second, and then took off after her. She ducked around trees, getting out of his sight, so Emmett tailed her by sound. She was ahead of him...or so he thought.

Rosalie rushed around the tree nearly silent coming from behind him as he passed, and leaped onto Emmett's back like a forest demon. If anyone had been watching they would have been shocked by the seeming intensity of the attack, but both combatants knew this was only for fun. Knowing it was just play, however, did not kill the slicing pain in Emmett's right shoulder as the hunter dug her nails into his stony flesh. Emmett tucked and rolled with her attack trying to fling her over his shoulder, but she only dug her fingers deeper into the muscle. With the added weight of Rosalie on his shoulders, he continued the tuck into a forward somersault and flipped both of them over, landing on his back and catching Rosalie between himself and the ground.

The scuttle of their feet in the underbrush and the low snarls were punctuated with her surprised yelp. Emmett felt a flash of concern through the slightly unfocused gray his mind had become with their roughhousing, but he still couldn't shake her grip. Instead, she tightened her hold on his shoulder and wrapped her left arm around his neck. Then, much to his dismay, she began to lick his neck behind his ear. Emmett shivered as her tongue sought out that compromise zone between his throat and his nape. She was trying to provoke another kind of frenzy in him now.

The baser instincts of the playing beast in him receded for a brief moment and he melted into the contact. Her breath was delicious on his neck and for a moment he could ignore the pain in his shoulder and the iron-like band over his throat.

Rosalie rolled them over onto his stomach, trapping him against the ground. Emmett pushed up from his hands and arched up into her, slowly bringing himself to his hands and knees as she continued her ardent attack with her mouth and lips. A different sort of beast awoke in him and the playfulness shifted suddenly. With his left hand he reached behind him for her leg and grasped her behind the knee as he shifted their combined weight to his knees and caught her arm around his throat with his right hand. With a strong and sudden yank, he pulled her off his back and onto the ground, gambling that she'd let go of his shoulder and not rip his arm off. She let go and landed hard on her back. He was on her now, using his weight to pin her and his leverage to hold her arms spread-eagled, unable to completely ignore the momentum of their pernicious play.

Rosalie had no interest in the wrestling any more though, and she continued to suck on his neck, slowly making her way to his torn shirt and applying herself to licking the punctures she had made in his shoulder. The venom closed the nearest wound under her clever tongue. Emmett caressed her jaw and ear with his nose, stroking her cheek with his own. He felt her mouth on the wounds she'd given him with her nails, and knew his venom-thickened blood was on her tongue.

No sooner had that thought entered his mind than she pulled away to look into his eyes. Was it a trick of the light or was there a storm cloud in her honey eyes? She had confessed to him how much she hated being a vampire, that she never wanted this life. She had gone to great lengths to avoid so many things that were part of vampire nature and had never once set her teeth into human skin. But he wasn't human any more. There was no uneasiness at the thought of her drinking his blood. It wasn't uncommon for vampire lovers to bite or mark one another. Carlisle had explained as much. He had said it was more erotic than carnal sex for their kind, even though he managed to impart this information with the manner of a schoolteacher.

Did she want to bite him? Did she want to mark him?

Below him, still in his hard grip, Rosalie lay submissive with downcast eyes in sudden embarrassment. Emmett dipped his head slightly and touched his lips to her throat, opening his mouth. He licked her neck, pressing his tongue flat against the smooth skin. When he opened his mouth wider and caressed her with his teeth, Rosalie arched violently and pressed her neck into his mouth. That was all the encouragement he needed. With steady deliberate pressure, he broke the skin and sank his teeth deep into her neck. Her venom-tainted blood flooded his mouth. She was, in a sense, his first non-animal victim. He let go of her arms and held her, one hand holding her to him, the other supporting her neck as she clutched his soft curly hair in her fingers.

The flavor burst into his mouth: pepper and sugar all at once. The thick elixir poured over his tongue and he swallowed reflexively. She moaned and collapsed under his mouth; he followed her to the ground. Even as more vitae flowed into his mouth, he could feel it begin to boil through him. It was life and death inextricably linked. Her essence flavored with that of her own victims: deer, bear, and coyote. To Emmett, the warming sensation reminded him of a rare treat he'd had once as a child; hot chocolate on a cold blustery day as it warmed him from the inside out. It morphed into a vintage moonshine, pure and clear from the still, but it didn't burn. That simple quaff spread through him like a wild fire and revitalized him. He enjoyed the flavors, the complexity, and feeling her body pressing mindlessly into his. He swallowed again, savoring the sensation and taste of her.

Rosalie whimpered and writhed under him, everything centered around his mouth on her throat. Pain and happiness began and ended with his sucking kiss. After her human fiancé violated her so completely, she never thought she could trust herself to love again. She never imagined she could simply be herself or enjoy the vulnerability that came from knowing the love of a decent and caring man. Emmett's purity and goodness healed her once-bleeding spirit.

A star burst of light exploded behind Emmett's eyes and he shuddered. His control could not compete with the present—and the totally arousing—experience of Rosalie's eager and intoxicating body. He panted heavily, his breath harsh against her neck as he kissed and licked her in heated abandon, closing the wound.

He knew it was Rosalie's turn, and he knew she would not shy away from her nature. She rolled him over. Her strong fingers ripped his already tattered shirt aside. She was kneeling over him, drinking, healing the punctures on his shoulder when it hit him.

His mind splintered into a million tiny fragments. Light burst across his eyes and sent his rationale spinning away into oblivion setting his body on fire with her every touch. The sharing of their venom was like a drug and a thousand times more powerful. His body burned, hypersensitive to touch. Even the clothes he wore were too much of a distraction and he ripped them from his own body. Skin like satin. Smooth. Wet. Sweet. Erect pulsing animal desire. Her body opening and accepting his.

His need for her was immediate and primal. All he knew was her. All he wanted was her. There was no thought. Her clothes disappeared in a roar of tearing seams, hanging in shreds from her slender shoulders. She was touching him, over him, moving against him. She rose from her labors and caught his eyes: wanton, greedy, her lips smeared with his blood, and it was natural. It was right that she be here, on his body and he took her, forcing himself into her with the heartlessness of an animal. Their hunger was insatiable. Her heat was his destruction. And the world as they knew it... ended.

~•~

When Emmett's senses returned, Rosalie lying naked over him. Her golden hair spread over his chest in little tangles. They were still joined; her warmth surrounded him. Slowly, he combed his fingers through her hair, trying to right it. The silky strands parted with little difficulty once he pulled the twigs and grass out. He felt her sigh in his arms and he tried to rub her back, but his hands felt sticky. He lifted his hand to see what it was: venom and blood. Emmett tried to look at her back to see what could have possibly done this to her. A glance at the top of her shoulder showed him that however bad it had been, it was only scratches now. The upper edge of four nail-marks marred the pale skin. He tried to lick them closed, knowing they were his own doing. He lifted her off him slightly and laid her back down in the puddle of their clothes. He laid over her, licking the wounds closed slowly in long stroking caresses. He worked his way up until he was lying over her, using his body as a blanket.

As he closed the last of the scratches near her neck, she began to breathe in shuddering gasps as if crying. He bent his ear to her lips. She wasn't crying. She was pleading with him.

"Fuck me, please. Oh God, do it. I want you to fuck me. Please, Emmett, please."

Some part of his brain registered her words. 'Fuck' wasn't part of the vocabulary of the once proper and self-absorbed woman she used to be. They had gotten pretty wild in the past as they grew more familiar with each other—Rosalie indulging his penchant for occasional roughness—but it had never been anything like this.

She was totally beyond defenses now. She was just his, raw and complete. She trusted him utterly, not only in their love and lust, but in all things. She was giving him everything, beyond any games or distinctions.

He kissed his wife's neck softly, wanting tenderness to counterbalance their earlier barbaric intercourse, but it was almost impossible to maintain that gentleness. Their base natures, both raw and hot, were still lingering close to the surface. He knelt between her legs and placed his hands on her hips, urging her to her hands and knees. He nipped the small of her back, entering her without prelude until he filled her completely with a guttural cry. His movements were quick and deliberate, moving in rapid short strokes, forcing himself deeply into her until he thought he'd go mad.

He lifted her into his lap with harsh strength and wrapped his arms around her stomach, helping her by alternately lifting her and forcing her down on him. There was no control or delicacy, no finesse. He felt clumsy and overzealous. He shuddered trying to find his restraint so he could please her, and crushed his eyes closed never breaking their momentum, when suddenly it happened. A bolt of energy shot through his body. It raced through his neck and out the top of his head. For a moment he thought his might explode. He felt suffocated and trapped even as he felt liberated and set free to fly, burning through the heavens like a shooting star.

Emmett felt arms wrapped around his midriff. His voice broke in a gasping growl and he clutched at Rosalie in a sudden burst of anxiety that barely subdued a possessive rage.

_Someone was behind him!_

He stiffened and as his grip around his lover tightened, so did the arms around him. He felt a body pressed against his back, felt the euphoria of lovemaking. He felt fingers grow tense and hard against his sides, just as his own fingers had stilled. Confused, he flexed his fingers experimentally against Rosalie's skin, and likewise, the sensation of the hand on him moved. He moved his thumb in a slow circle against her; the touch felt the same on his body.

He was feeling what Rosalie felt! It wasn't empathy. He wasn't reading her mind. It felt like he was he was in her body, sharing the same skin.

Rosalie gasped as he realized what it was. Their shared venom connected them and reflected their emotions back on them like mirrors—one looking at the other reflecting itself ad infinitum. He thrust into her again and they both cried out at the completely new sensations. Emmett knew what it was to be so filled, feeling a euphoria beyond anything he had ever known when he hit a spot deep within her that triggered her orgasm, then felt his own orgasm reflected in Rosalie and knew now what it felt like for a woman to reach that precipice of the little death and plunge off into oblivion. Rosalie bucked against him as she knew what Emmett felt when her tight walls fluttered around him sending him over the edge as well.

And then Emmett felt Rosalie's response to feeling her own climax reflected back to her again through him as their minds broke free and spun in circles. Their cries of ecstasy began and ended together, echoing off the walls of the valley.

As suddenly as his new sight came, it was gone again, and they collapsed in utter exhaustion. Emmett turned her in his arms and buried his face against her neck. He could feel her breath racing through her throat against his cheek. His mind was clouded in an exhausted blur and the sense of unreality of everything that had happened.

"What WAS that?"

Rosalie's eyes were wide with surprise and happiness. "I don't know, but we are _so_ going to do that again!"

"Damn right we are." A wicked grin spread over Emmett's face. "See that. We do have a special vampire gift. Completely unique. Just our own."

She grew suddenly serious, gazing up into his adoring eyes. After all she had been through in her mortal life, she never thought she would ever trust another man, never thought she could ever surrender to a man and let him press her into the ground. And yet, she never felt more vulnerable and exposed in her life than when Emmett looked at her. She never wanted to submit to any man the way she wanted to be owned by Emmett.

"I love you," she mouthed the words without a sound.

He pressed his lips against hers, tasting their blood combined on their tongues. "I will love you forever, Rosalie Hale." His hand found hers, threading his large fingers between her thin ones and pressed his thumb against her wedding ring. "Thank you for saving me."

"No, thank _you..._ for saving _me_," she said in earnest as her voice broke, smoothing his thick curly hair from his temples and pulling his lips back to hers.


	3. Chapter 3 Easier all the time

_Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Stephenie Meyer. It is not intended to infringe on any copyrights. Any original story directions and plot lines herein are the property of the author. This work is written solely for the enjoyment of exploring that world in new ways._

_Author's blog: gkkstitch-gkkmouse(dot)blogspot(dot)com  
_

#3 is a "Missing Moment" that should have been in "Eclipse"... or _somewhere_ in the series!

Bella-Edward  
Eclipse  
Rated-M

* * *

**Excerpt from "Eclipse"**

"Do you mind if I do something?" he murmured, his arms tightening around me.

"Anything you want."

But he let me go and slid away.

"Anything but that," I complained.

He ignored me, taking my hand and pulling me off the bed, too. He stood in front of me, hands on my shoulders, face serious.

"Now, I want to do this right. Please, please, keep in mind that you've already agreed to this, and don't ruin it for me."

"Oh, no," I gasped as he slid down onto one knee.

"Be nice," he muttered.

I took a deep breath.

"Isabella Swan?" He looked up at me through his impossibly long lashes, his golden eyes soft but somehow, still scorching. "I promise to love you forever — every single day of forever. Will you marry me?"

There were many things I wanted to say, some of them not nice at all, and others more disgustingly gooey and romantic than he probably dreamed I was capable of. Rather than embarrass myself with either, I whispered, "Yes."

"Thank you," he said simply. He took my left hand and kissed each of my fingertips before he kissed the ring that was now mine.

~•~

He crawled back onto his big ridiculous bed with me and rested his head on the pillow beside mine; his smiling eyes were soft and happy. I hated fighting with him. No matter that he'd finally put his ring on my finger, no matter that we had at least discussed the issue of being intimate, and no matter that we'd found some form of resolution, I still felt like he was stuck in 1918. Maybe I should have respected his ideals from his human upbringing, but he wasn't human anymore and you couldn't have one thing without the other. I still felt like we were courting disaster if we didn't at least try something more, to help him adjust to being closer to me.

I laced my fingers in his, palm to palm. He smiled at me and gave my fingers a gentle squeeze. It gave me an idea.

"Make a fist," I whispered to him.

"What?" Confusion clouded his face and voice.

"I want to try something and think it will be easier if you can't squeeze my fingers," I said, taking his hand in mine and making his fingers curl into themselves. I held his knuckles in one hand and his wrist in my other, and pressed the back of his hand firmly to my sternum. "Close your eyes."

Uncertain about my intentions, his gaze searched mine for a moment.

"Trust me." I breathed the words. "Just feel me."

Edward swallowed hard and took a deep unnecessary breath to calm himself before doing what I asked. He was still then in that disconcerting way that emphasized how different he was. After a moment and despite his trepidation, a smile tugged lightly at the corners of his lips. I could feel myself smile in return.

"What?" I asked softly.

"Your heartbeat," he said and the adoration in his voice made my smile falter.

"Tell me," I encouraged him.

"I can feel it through the back of my hand," he said.

"What else?" I asked, clutching his hand closer to me.

"It's warm," he said, almost too quiet for me to hear.

I leaned down and kissed his fingers. "Your fingers are getting warm from mine," I said against his knuckles, rubbing his hand back and forth against me.

"So soft," he said, his voice taking on a dream-like quality.

I didn't know what he was referring to. Was it my lips against the skin of his hand? He could have been talking about the material of my tank top. It suddenly occurred to me that he might mean something else when I realized I'd slowed down the motion of moving his hand against me and I became very aware of the way his hand was cradled by my breasts.

Rubbing my thumb over the side of his index finger, I move the back of his hand deliberately and pressed him into me. His arm tensed in my grasp.

"Bella," he said firmly, and I could hear the argument coming.

"Shh." I don't know why I thought that shushing him was meant to calm him. His hand was shaking in mine. "Edward?" Very slowly, I could feel him pulling his hand away. "Please." My voice cracked over the plea and I hated how desperate it sounded, but he stopped moving, neither letting me pull his hand closer or moving away.

I sighed and felt myself sinking into the bed. I wouldn't let myself succumb to the resignation that always circled us. I kept my hand wrapped around his fist where it hovered just a breath away from me, but let go of his wrist. I reached up and combed my fingers through his hair.

He opened his eyes and looked at me, and just like that, there was nothing but our souls and our intentions.

There were many points of contact between his body and mine, but they all seemed to fade away. I couldn't feel my hand curled around his fingers. My thigh wasn't caught between his knees. My calf wasn't lying along his. His toes weren't pressing into the arch of my foot. There was just his head and mine, resting on the big gold pillow.

I turned the hand I had in his hair and ran the cool metal of my engagement ring along the side of his brow.

"First base," I said slowly, "is kissing." I lightly slid the pad of my thumb over his lips. "Do you remember the first time you took me to the meadow?"

"Yes," he said, moving his lips against my thumb.

"You pressed my hand against your nose and mouth and-"

"Breathed you," he added and a remnant of his smile cautiously returned.

"You said it was easier all the time."

"And then I ran you back through the woods for the first time."

"And I couldn't let go of you to climb down."

Edward chuckled at the memory.

"We got to first base that day," I reminded him, tracing his brow with my fingertips. "And... you made that same face when I kissed you back."

His smile faded a little.

"Second base is over the clothes," I said hesitantly, rubbing my thumb over his hand again. "Edward, we're engaged. I know you're worried about your control, I just think..."

"You just think it will get easier for me over time," he added once again, looking at his hand in mine.

"I know you worry," I said quickly, but quietly, "and I understand that, Edward, I do, but sometimes I think you're too quick to just... freeze up."

He didn't disagree with me. He just listened and that was all I wanted from him for now.

"I won't force you to do something you don't want to, but I think we can do a little more to start making things easier for you. You're afraid you'll hurt me, so let me guide you. Just... trust me." I tugged lightly on his hand and felt the tension in his arm loosen. I swallowed the glimmer of hope I felt. "Let me be your muscles. Let me show you." I pulled his hand back against my chest and felt his arm go completely slack. He was actually going to let me do this.

I pressed the back of his hand against the top of my chest and pulled it down. He licked his lips and stared at his hand. I kept my fingers curled over his and moved his hand around my breast, letting him feel the weight of my body against his. He watched the way my breast moved and molded around his hand when I pressed him closer. I slid his hand down and brought it against my breast from underneath, using the back of his hand to lift it creating a modest amount of cleavage. His eyes became wide and dark as if his vision were feasting on me. When I slid his hand over my sensitive nipple, I felt his breath against my face and the knuckle of his index finger protruded a fraction to press into me through my tank top.

I gasped. That was all him. He looked at me and saw the question in my eyes. Without answering and without looking away, he moved his fingers apart slightly—careful to not shake off my grasp—and gently allowed the peak of my nipple to slide between the crevice he created between them.

I felt my own eyes droop closed at the sensation. I couldn't open them even when I felt him shift forward. His lips pressed softly to mine as he turned the hand I held and pressed his fingertips against me, sliding them around my breast until he was gently cupping it. His fingers stroked and grazed over me slowly. He dragged his kiss along my jaw to my neck as his thumb began to pass back and forth over the tight skin of my nipple. I struggled not to arch into it. Edward's tongue flicked against my collarbone and down along the strap of my tank top, kissing my chest just above the swell he was exploring.

He lowered his head and nuzzled against the cloth-covered skin that his fingers continued to squeeze, circling the tight peak with his nose and then pressing his cheek into the soft pliable curves.

He rested his head there with his ear over my heart, and brought my hand to his lips. As he kissed my fingers with his head pillowed against my chest, I pressed my nose into his hair as he so often did to me and let my fingers brush through his soft locks.

He was still except for the occasional deep breath that told me it was more about smelling me than sighing. He snuggled his head in slow circles against my breasts and was less self-conscious about the placement of his hand on me, whether it was resting directly on me or stroking the side. He was careful to never venture under the material of my top, though, and I did not push him to do more.

"Better?" I asked in the quiet of the room.

He pressed his face against me and I felt his lips move as he kissed me through my shirt. Repeating the words he said the first time he took me to the meadow, he said, "Easier all the time."


End file.
